My husband and I were watching tv the other night and something in a commercial reminded me of that 80’s cartoon, Poochie. I turned to my husband and asked if he ever watched that show as a kid.
“What’s a poochie?” was his response.
“What do you mean, “What’s a poochie?” She was only the most awesome, pink dog in the world! What about the Popples? Don’t you remember them?”
“Huggabunch? Jem? Gummi Bears? Did you live under a rock as a kid?”
At this point he is standing so he can leave. He knows the conversation is one sided from here on out, and he is not about to listen to the ramblings of his 80’s obsessed wife. Now I am sitting alone, feeling all nostalgic and missing my childhood. I miss Saturday morning cartoons. I also miss Pogo Balls, She-Ra, Pound Puppies, and ALF. Sleeping under sheet forts, catching lightning bugs, climbing my neighbors big pine tree, and Mr. Bubbles Baths. I miss going to the store and hoping mom would let me get a candy bar when we were done, riding a bike with no hands, not thinking twice about taking a bite out of the snow, and seeing my friends every day at school.
Then I start thinking about my girls. What are they going to remember most about their childhood? Am I doing all I can to create lasting memories for them? Will their husbands look at them like they have two heads when they say “Your mom didn’t make you wear silly holiday headbands, drag you to every kiddie movie in the theater, or dump glitter all over your room and pretend it was from the Tooth Fairy?” I sure hope so.